February 2019 BVDN
by Big Bad Wolfy
Summary: Written for TPTH BVDN. 6 prompts, 40 mins each 300 word limit. Theme was film noir. I started with the second prompt, and that immediately brought to mind the roaring 20's and the 30's gangster era. Vegeta is bad man, looking for a quick get away and he unwittingly picks up an unintentional stow away when he steals a car. Real world setting, 1932, middle-o-nowhere, Texas. Not beta'


I ran way over with the last prompt, which was actually the first prompt. I didn't get around to writing the last one until the BVDN was over, sooooo, I'm gonna hazard a guess that maybe I ain't beholding to the rule of that 300 word limit anymore. Please do comment. I need them. They give me life.

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Texas, 1932

2 Private Eye

He didn't give damn whose car it was, all he cared about was that it was running, it was there and he needed to cut outta Dodge fast! He dropped the Ford V8 into gear and peeled out of the bank parking lot like a bat out of hell, spitting gravel and sending people on the veranda running.

"Hey!" A woman screeched from the back, "Just what do you think you're doing?!"

"Shit!" Vegeta stole a glance at the back seat, looking first at the woman, and then through the rear window. No one was following him just yet. If he could make the county line and haul it into the back woods he might just dodge the cops.

Eyes back on the road ahead, Vegeta dodged around Sunday drivers and swung a tight curve around the corner, throwing the woman across her seat.

"This is my father's car!" The woman screamed, aghast.

"Oh yeah, well Daddy's got good taste."

The woman crawled into the front seat, her skirt hitching up, giving Vegeta a glimpse of the tops of her stockings. His breath caught for a moment and almost didn't see the farm truck. Swerving at the last minute he swiped its fender and the truck's wood side rails broke loose, spilling its load of carrots all over Main Street.

"I demand that you turn this car around right now, and promise I will convince my father to not seek kid-napping charges."

Vegeta laughed, "Who do you think you are, woman?"

"Bulma Briefs, daughter of Dr. Trunks Briefs, a top professor at Texas Tech University, and Panchi Korsette Briefs, lead actress in more movies than I care to list." Bulma huffed. She kicked at the bag of money on the floor boards, making room to set her feet down and smoothed out her skirt.

"Shit, they're gonna send private eyes after me!"

3 Femme Fatale

An hour later Vegeta steered the car into an abandoned barn. He considered himself damned lucky that the local yokel cops had not been quick enough on the fly to even catch him before he left town. It was looking all aces, save for one thing. The woman curled up in the passenger side, who had talked his ear off until she fell asleep about 15 minutes ago, was still a wrench in the works. He pulled a silver tin case from his back pocket, removed a Lucky and lit it. The long nicotine laced inhale was a much needed calm to his frayed nerves.

"I'll take a drag." Bulma stirred from her side of the car.

Vegeta scoffed. "And I suppose you'll want a swig of my whiskey next, kitten."

"I'm no angel, sir."

"Yeah, and I'm no sap, I'm not going to have it on my head that I've corrupted some big shot's little girl."

"I tried to convince you to turn around. I'm sure my father would—mmph!"

Vegeta stuck the cigarette into her mouth to shut her up.

"Like hell I'm going back to the clink!" Vegeta spat.

Bulma took a slow practiced pull on the cig and released the smoke with her red lips forming a perfect "o." Vegeta's gaze narrowed, his own lips parted just slightly, mirroring the dame before him, who looked more femme fatale than unwilling victim.

"How 'bout that whiskey?" Bulma purred.

His eyes shot open, then slashed down into a scowl. "What game are you playing at?" He asked, accusingly.

"Maybe I just need a reason to cut loose, after having to toe other people lines for so long, maybe I want to spread my wings a little before I have to go back to real life."

Vegeta smirked, taking the cig back from her, and took a drag. He let the smoke out straight into her face. "Who says I'm letting you go, kitten?"

4 Secret Meeting

His gravelly voice skittered across her skin sending little electric shocks down her spine and straight to that secret part of her where her thighs met. He didn't give her any kind of hinky heebie-jeebies but she could clearly tell he was a bad boy. Her love of bad boys made her feel like she was doing something wrong, and with her parents always expecting her to fall into a certain mold and not upset the status quo so much that they actually had to pay attention to her, she really wanted to do something really wrong and really bad.

Bulma watched him come back into view as the smoke cleared. His dark, almost black eyes, his hawkish features, just barely softened by his obvious youth- he couldn't be that much older than her. That put her mind at rest. What harm could he do to her really? She didn't have a well thought out plan but she felt confident enough that he'd let her go, as long as she played along and oiled the gears of his ego for a while.

For a brief second her resolve faltered when his voice dipped into a low and dangerous timbre, "Who says I'm letting you go, kitten?"

Bulma slipped back into her still green persona, she painted on a coy smile, fluttering her lashes coquettishly, as she had seen other girls do at clandestine parties where illicit alcohol flowed.

"I'm no square," Bulma cooed. "What if I'm in the mood for a wild ride?"

She scooted a little closer to him, close enough to smell the alluring mix of gun oil, Lucky Strikes and musk.

He reached out, lightening quick, like a snake, grabbing hold of her chin, and Bulma lost hold of her affected mask, dropping all pretense by gasping in fear.

5 Cigarette

"Seems I've got the tiger by the tail now," He chuckled darkly.

Bulma scrambled to gather her composure, real fear edged at her senses, and she berated herself for underestimating the level of this man's danger.

When she didn't reply to him, he said, "Or, have I got the kitten by the tongue?"

She didn't know how to regain the footing she thought she had, she didn't want beg him to let go like she kind of wanted to. If she did that she'd lose all face.

When she slapped him across the face the sound was like the crack of a whip. She jerked herself free, trying to ignore the sting in her palm, dewy faced as he was his jaw felt like granite. Bulma snatched the cigarette from his lips, and reclaimed it back in her own. More than ever she needed it to calm her nerves. She had just thrown all her cards out the window and she was running blind now.

His face, still turned to the side from the blow she had given him, gave her a view of his bright red cheek, visible even in the dim light of the abandoned barn. She prayed he couldn't see her fingers shaking as she held the cig.

A sinister grin split his features and he chuckled, turning slowly to face her. He broke into a loud guffaw.

"You've got moxie, kitten!" He laughed. Bulma relaxed, a little, almost feeling like laughing herself, out fear, and at the absolute absurdity of this situation.

He stopped laughing, and her heart stopped with him.

"You've got more balls than most of the twits I know."

Without preamble he reached into his coat, causing Bulma to stiffen. She had almost forgotten this man had just robbed a bank. He had to be packing heat!

He tossed a silver flask at her and then he took a fresh cig from the case he kept in his back pocket.

"Name's Vegeta." He said as he lit it.

6 Double Cross

Vegeta leaned back into the seat as he took a slow drag. He eyed the woman as she threw caution to the wind and took a hearty swig. She sputtered and coughed, and he chuckled, knowing that she did not expect to be drinking Freeza's finest uncut hooch, strong enough to burn the sins out of a man and 3 generations before him.

"I wasn't kidding when I said your daddy's got good taste. I've been wanting to get my hands on one of these new V8s."

Bulma huffed, "Daddy loves to show off his money, Mother would not expect anything less."

A tattoo of tinny beats declared the rain on the old barn's corrugated roof. Vegeta noted the how much darker it had gotten since they had parked. There was plenty of gas in the tank to make it all the way to the state line. This car looked to be roomy enough to sleep in. Maybe he could leave in the cover of darkness.

Bulma hazarded another sip, she squeezed her eyes shut, looking like she was holding back a gag.

"Give that back to me before you hurt yourself." Vegeta took the flask, and nipped a good sized swallow, that familiar burn racing down his throat.

He had to do something about the woman. He really didn't need this extra hassle. Maybe he could drop her off the next town over early in the morning; that would give him enough time to and enough cover to slip in and out of this county undetected. He sipped again. Or, maybe he could make some extra green off her. Her parents were loaded. He could tell her he would go ahead and let her go and double cross her.

"Stupid idea," he muttered.

"Yes, Daddy and his stupid ideas," Bulma snapped, "I imagine _now _they've got to take notice. Who knew kidnapping would finally get them to pay attention?"

"Kitten, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Why _should _I even go back?"

"And that is enough hooch for you."

"Do you know what else would really ruffle Daddy's feathers?"

"Humor me, I—"

Bulma threw herself at him, grabbing him by the sides of his face, pressing her lips to his.

1 Rainy Night

His lips were surprisingly soft, pliant, melding with hers effortlessly. She felt him relax, and lean in to her, taking her chin, gently, in his hand. Electric shocks danced across her skin where he touched her.

He pulled her in closer with his free hand, stroking the swell of her hip through her skirt, deepening the kiss, flicking his tongue across her lips. This sweet euphoria, was it him, was it the liquor? Was she becoming drunk on this sinful freedom?

Lighten flashed, flooding the barn for a split second. Thunder answered, loud, reverberating, warning all that a storm was ready to hit. It was so close, closer than she had first thought.

Her resolve faltered when her pushed back, leaning into her, climbing out from behind the wheel to straddle her hips as much as he could on the Ford's cramped bench seat. His full erection prodded her thigh, announcing to her that he was fully invested in what she had haphazardly started.

"Wait, wait!" she breathed, as his hot breath misted over her neck. She pushed against his chest; he was heavy and solid behind his starched white shirt. Vegeta allowed her to push him back. Lightening flashed again, and suddenly he looked sinister looming over her with half-lidded eyes, lips parted like a hungry beast. Thunder growled, or was it him? This boy, this man, this stranger she didn't even know, was under the assumption that she was some kind of loose floozy.

Vegeta muttered a curse under his breath, the cherry of his cigarette, still lit, bobbed in the low light, and Bulma lay drowning her shame. _Stupid_! What game _did _she think she was playing at? She scrambled to sit up, and finished off the last of her cig, stubbing it out on the bottom of her shoe.

"I'm sorry," She breathed, finally catching her breath. "I've never done this before and—"

"I said I wouldn't corrupt you."

The words splintered her brain, like a lightning struck tree, and she was reminded of her anger at her parents. _College isn't for a proper young woman, _her father had said. _Bulma, dear, you're already 20; if you don't marry a suitable man soon you'll perish as a spinster!_ Her mother was no better. Proper this! Suitable that! Well-mannered! Lady like! They didn't give damn what _she _wanted!

_Flash! Boom!_ The sky let loose with a powerful deluge, crashing on the tin barn roof, _rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, _like a Tommy gun.

"I want you!"

She pulled him by his shirt front, and he crashed upon her, picking up where he left off, pelting her neck with kisses. His free was hand at her hip, hiking up her skirt to reveal her pristine white panties, as he pinched his cigarette in his other hand out with bare fingers and tossed it to the floor board. Vegeta ground into her, insistent with need.

With each lightening flash, ghostly blue-white lit up her suddenly small world; the fogged windows made her feel like being enclosed by humid clouds, dampening the sounds of the outside world, cushioning her in a sultry trance of sensations she had never felt so deeply before. Her body was a maelstrom, dizzy, spinning, swirling and then all of a sudden it stopped when leaned back, giving her a sudden calm; the eye of a hurricane before all hell broke loose again.

He fumbled with his pants, unclipping suspenders, kicking off his shoes, throwing his suit jacket into the back seat, following no rational order, just trying to shed as much unnecessary clothing as possible. He leaned over her again and unhooked her garter suspenders from her stockings and roughly yanked her panties free, tossing them aside indiscriminately.

The storm surged again. Little lightning bolts of feeling bloomed from where ever his skin touched her, sizzling, superheating the surrounding air. She writhed under him, arching her back, canting her hips to me his every grind. It was as if her body knew what to do on its own; she had never gone this far with a guy before.

She could feel his bare manhood edging at her damp curls, nudging her folds, demanding entrance.

"Please, don't stop," she pleaded.

He breeched her entrance, slowly, sluicing in with ease. Bulma keened, in pleasure and slight discomfort at being so filled. Her fingers bit into his back, and he stopped, as he felt her tense up.

"Did that hurt?" He asked, hoarsely.

"I-I've never done this before," Bulma mewled out, biting her bottom lip.

His eyes filled with awe, mouth parting, as if suddenly being overcome with the gravity of being the first rain to fall up a new flower. He held himself still within her, reached to touch her cheek, dancing his fingertips down her neck, past her pearl necklace to the v neckline of her dress. He leaned down to kiss her, gentle, like a spring shower, in contrast to the storm that raged outside. She relaxed, sighing, and began move under him.

Vegeta withdrew from her, carefully, and sank into her warmth again. His continued movements were slightly jerky and jagged, like the drops of water that slid down the misted windows and forged little paths that marred visible trails on milk white plane. Bulma stole a glance at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breath came and went in sharp, short huffs. He looked like he was coming undone just as she was.

"Oh!" she cried out, her hold on reality slipping with his every slow stroke. He took her cry as a cue to speed up. The Ford's suspension called out in time to their building rhythm.

Faster, the car rocked

Louder, she called out her pleasure.

"Shit." He rasped.

She clung to him, like he was the only solid and real object there was in this tempest. She clung to him, afraid she was going to drown. Outside lightening flashed, relentlessly, and the thunder roared when he did. She felt him pulsing into her. She crumbled, and like a landslide the pleasure overcame her, rolling and rippling through her body.

He collapsed onto her, breath puffing into her ear, causing the hair on the back of her neck to prickle. She sparked still, crackling with sensation as she drifted back down to earth from the cloud she had been on.

Vegeta was still nestled firmly inside her, when started to chuckle, stilted at first. She jerked, with the feeling of him move.

"If you think I'm letting you go after that, kitten, you've—"

She kissed him to shut him up.

"Mmm, if you keep showing me a swell time like that I'm going to be stuck on you like glue."


End file.
